


Through His Eyes

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [80]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Firsts, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love Interest POV, Rescue, Slow Dancing, Snapshots, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 12:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.Prompt 1: Firsts: Every first your LI and OC have together, from the LI's point of view.A collection of firsts (but not an exhaustive list) for Zevran Arainai and Sevarra Amell.
Relationships: Female Amell/Zevran Arainai, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: Reddit Prompts [80]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1153856
Kudos: 18





	Through His Eyes

**First Meeting. **

She held her hand out to him, offering help up. He took hold of it, taking care to hide his puzzlement. _Not even an hour ago, I was trying to kill her. Why is she doing this? _

A small smile curved her lips as she tugged him upward, but her eyes were what held him entranced for the briefest of moments. Bright like newly-minted silver coins. The old tales said that silver or gold eyes were a sure sign of a witch. He had no need of folk tales, the fist of rock that she’d summoned and sent flying his way – the very thing that had knocked him unconscious earlier – had confirmed it. His life was in the hands of a mage. A Grey Warden mage.

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation… this I swear.” The words poured from his mouth with ease and some internal confusion. When he woke that morning, he was all but certain that he’d not live to see another sunrise. _Ah, but fate is nothing if not a tricky whore, no? _

**First Rescue. **

The rope was tight, he could feel it cutting into his wrists and ankles, making the skin and tissue below it ache in protest. One of them turned the wheel, pulling the ropes tighter. His body was afire with agony. He didn’t allow so much as a whimper to pass his lips, nor let his brows show the slightest bit of furrowing.

“I think I saw him flinch that time.”

“Maybe. We’ll make you scream yet, apprentice,” the other one said.

_No. I won’t let you, _he thought with ferocity. He’d stay strong, he’d pass this test! Sass flowed from his mouth, as it always did around elders like the pair “administering” to him. He forgot the words as soon as they left his throat, lost in the haze of pain he was doing everything he could to conceal.

“This one has spirit. It’s a shame we have to break him,” the one not controlling the wheel said with a smirk. The other one made the ropes another click tighter, the pulling on his arms and legs causing pain that made his vision begin to cloud with spots.

A scream of rage rang out. “Get away from him, demons!” _A woman’s voice? What? _

He couldn’t get a good view of the newcomer, no matter how much he squirmed about. But for some reason, the voice was familiar. _Why is it familiar? Where have I heard it before? _

A giant hunk of ice pelted the tormentor manning the wheel, knocking him from his feet. The heavily tattooed elder Crow fell onto his rump with a curse and snarl. She finally stalked into view. Small, delicate, gleaming black hair, and silver eyes that were molten with rage. He… he knew her from somewhere. Her name escaped him, however.

“Zevran! You need to snap out of it! We’re in the Fade! This isn’t real!” she yelled frantically.

_How does she know my name? Why do her words seem to resonate with truth? _What about his test? He needed to endure! Then he would finally become a Crow! He informed the woman of such.

“You’re already a Crow, Zevran. These are _demons, _they dig around in our minds purely for their own amusement! They think we are nothing more than mere playthings! Nothing they are showing or telling you is true! This is a dream!”

Again, the feeling that she was speaking the truth washed over him. “You’re saying this is nothing more than… bad memories? A nightmare?”

“Yes! Shake it off! You need to break free, or else their master will keep you trapped here until you wither away in the real world!” she said in a voice sharp with urgency.

“I don’t know how you found your way here, sweetheart, but I promise you that you’re going to regret it,” her formerly snow-encrusted victim said after wiping the last bit of rime from his face. “And you,” he said, pointing a crooked finger Zevran’s way, “you will be punished most severely for not staying focused!”

That seemed to step on some hidden nerve somewhere, causing his rescuer’s face to shift into a scowl and flush pink with fury and rage. “I’ll make you regret ever looking into anyone’s dream, monster!”

He didn’t see everything that happened during what felt like a blink of an eye, but he heard the singing of steel being pulled from sheathes and smelled the ozone that accompanied the rumbling of thunder and flashes of light. And then there was the distinct, but thankfully brief, smell of burning flesh. He heard panting before her worried face came back into view, a knife in her hand. Anxiety replaced the rage that’d burned in her eyes. She made quick work of slicing the ropes that held his wrists and ankles. _Are those tears running down her cheek? _

“Did they hurt you? Are you alright?” she asked.

He pushed himself off the rack, then gingerly rubbed one wrist. “Well, that was bracing! Nothing like a good racking, is there?”

The joke failed to lighten her mood. She frowned as she reached for him. Her hand slid through his arm instead of grasping it. His vision was fading to white while the odd sensation of his awareness being tugged elsewhere made his gut roil in discomfort.

“Wait, where are you going?” His question went unanswered. The last thing he saw before the whiteness blinded him was her standing there with a dumbstruck look on her face.

**First Thank You. **

It was hard to find privacy on the little ship. True, it was a far sight larger than the little ferry boat that’d brought them to Kinloch hold, but it wasn’t meant for so many people to be on board at once! A dozen mages, including the First Enchanter, a handful of Templars, two Grey Wardens, the qunari, himself and one very harried boatman made for crowded conditions. People tried their best to contribute and avoid stepping on already raw nerves, but it wasn’t easy. After everything the survivors had witnessed, it’d be quite some time before many things were easy again. The tension was so thick in the air that he suspected that he could pull one of his daggers out and stab it.

Very little had been said since they boarded the ship at the Grey Warden mage’s insistence, departing from the Circle of Magi’s ravaged tower that morning. Normally, it would take a week to reach Redcliffe by ship. The Warden mage, Sevarra, currently perched on the ship’s prow, was ensuring that they were traveling under anything but normal conditions. Powerful winds filled the sails, pushing them along with urgency. If the pace could be maintained, they’d seen Redcliffe’s docks in two days.

After half a day of her standing vigil, Alistair, the other Grey Warden, tried to persuade her to take a break. She shook her head, dark hair flying in the wind, and refused. The knight sighed in defeat. The following morning, the First Enchanter found her still perched on the prow. She’d stayed up the entire night using her magic to power the wind that propelled them onward. A hushed back and forth went on between them. Zevran only picked up portions of it, thanks to the wind.

“You need to rest. If you keep this up, you will be in no state to help the boy you’re eager to save,” the elder said in his raspy voice.

She shook her head, the wind preventing the eavesdropping assassin from hearing her reply.

“If he is truly possessed as you claim, you will need every bit of mana you can spare for the ritual, to say nothing of when you confront the demon. Do not be foolish, young lady,” the elder countered.

The wind muffled her words, but they apparently reached the silver-maned mage just fine. The man scoffed and snorted. “You aren’t the only one capable of it. I recall teaching you the spell myself.”

“But--”

The elder mage held up his hand. “No ‘buts.’ Go rest. Now. I will take care of it for a time.”

“But he hurt you!”

“Did I stutter, young lady?” One silver brow rose with annoyance.

The winds calmed and her hair stopped dancing. She looked down and slumped her shoulders. “No, ser.”

She hopped off the prow in defeat and stagger-walked her way to a bit of unclaimed wall and slid down until she was seated. Once her eyes closed, the assassin noted the soft nod of the enchanter’s head before he began weaving a spell. Another gust of wind, less forceful than the last one, filled the sails and pushed the ship along Lake Calenhad.

Sensing his chance, Zevran quietly claimed a spot of the wall next to the Warden mage. Her purple ringed eyes only opened a tiny fraction in response to the sound of the elf sitting down before they closed again. After he made certain that the others were otherwise occupied, he took the chance to speak.

“What you did back there, in that… place,” he started tentatively, “with those… things in my dream. Thank you.”

Her tired eyes opened halfway, perhaps taking measure before she gathered the words to speak. “No one deserves what those things were doing to you, dream or no dream.”

“Regardless, I am once again in your debt. You have my thanks.”

She shook her head, the action slow with exhaustion, eyes closing again. “I only did what a decent person would do. And do not thank me. We haven’t made it through this mess, yet. Maker only knows if we’ll manage to see the end of this war, let alone this blight.”

A chuckle escaped him. She did have a point. He glanced over when no reply came. Her head was resting on knees pulled up to her chest, eyes closed in a fatigue-induced sleep.

**First Dance. **

The cider was sweet but had the slightest bit of bite that made itself known before he swallowed it. In a small moment of contemplation, he likened it to his dark-haired lover sitting next to him, who was listening raptly to the tune the fiddler was coaxing from his instrument. When people and situations allowed for it, she was sweet; fetching medicines for the needy here, and rounding up lost children and returning them to anxious families there. But when her sweetness couldn’t get the job done, the fierce bite of her magic soon reminded people that mages – especially Grey Warden mages – were not to be trifled with. A smile ghosted along his lips. _Beautiful and dangerous, much like a wildcat. _

After months of roaming from place to place, sitting in a tavern in Denerim felt like a well-deserved taste of normality. No Deep Roads to trawl through while searching for insane Paragons. No mage towers overrun by abominations, or demons playing with their minds. No muddy forests to traipse through while hoping to catch sight of werewolves. No Maker-forsaken mountains to climb in search of legendary relics. Just a tavern, debatably-decent drinks, a bit of music, and enjoyable company. For the moment, it was enough.

The fiddle struck up a new tune: one that was rich and slow. Zevran was on his feet as soon as the thought occurred to him.

“Would you care to dance, my dear?”

Sevarra blinked and her cheeks flushed pink. “I… I only know a couple of dances. Neither of them are for slow songs.”

He found himself needing to stuff down the tiny pang of jealousy that’d been simmering since they’d cured Arl Eamon. One of the arl’s knights had taken the opportunity to teach the mage a couple of traditional Fereldan dances during the celebration back at Redcliffe Village once it was made known that both the arl and his son had been saved. He hadn’t enjoyed watching her spin and twirl about with someone else.

“There is always a time to learn, no?” he said with a smile, holding his hand out to her.

She smiled and took it, entwining their fingers. He guided her other hand to his shoulder and then let his free hand rest on her hip. He began with simple steps, allowing her to keep up. Soon enough, they were swaying to the languid melody.

“This… this is nice,” she stammered with a smile. Cider wasn’t the only thing making her cheeks pink.

The slow song was followed by another of its ilk. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder with a smile by the end of it. For a moment, he could forget about the impending Landsmeet and all the politics and busywork that’d inevitably ensue. There was just the two of them and the music. Everything else faded into the background. In that moment, it was enough.


End file.
